A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs,

and general acclamations, attested the interest taken by the spectators

in this encounter; the most equal, as well as the best performed, which

had graced the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed their station,

than the clamour of applause was hushed into a silence, so deep and so

dead, that it seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe.

A few minutes pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their

horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon signed to

the trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a second time sprung from

their stations, and closed in the centre of the lists, with the same

speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal

fortune as before.

In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his

antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly, that his spear

went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle.

On the other hand, that champion had, in the beginning of his career,

directed the point of his lance towards Bois-Guilbert's shield, but,

changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it

to the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained,

rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on

the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even at

this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high reputation; and had

not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As

it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man, rolled on the ground under

a cloud of dust.

To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the

Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness, both at

his disgrace and at the acclamations with which it was hailed by the

spectators, he drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his conqueror.

The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his

sword. The marshals of the field, however, spurred their horses between

them, and reminded them, that the laws of the tournament did not, on the

present occasion, permit this species of encounter.

"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a resentful

glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to separate us."

"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall not be

mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am

alike ready to encounter thee."




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